Beauty isn't in face, it's in character, in personality and of someone. Beauty lies in the power of beholding something beyond limits which can't be express in words or metaphors but can only be feel.
Beauty is being super happy in gloomy days and laughing out your heart and facing the circumstances. Beauty is the music which one should sing and listen until your eyes start shining brightly and your heart starts singing loudly.
Beauty is hearing and believing God laughing with us. Beauty is in kind act of humanity, being humane. Beauty is wearing your heart on your sleeve, depicting the richness of your soul. Glittering and glimmering the lives of others with the sparkles of beauty of kindness.
Beauty may be someone's advocacy or may be someone's entertainment. Beauty may be an old rusted torn page from a journal or just a faded page to ignore. Beauty may be on the old wrinkled face or beauty doesn't even exist in charm. It's about how we define and feel depicts the beauty of a soul, of a human.
I remember the time when you started to forget the little things like what day of the week it was, or whether there was food for lunch and that should have been my first warning sign because you had made a life out of recalling details and odds and ends but I thought it was nothing to worry about.
I remember the time when you started to fall asleep in the middle of the day even though you had woken up rather late in the morning, you smiled and shrugged it off and said it was tiredness just one of those days and that should have been my second warning sign because you never liked to sleep in the afternoons but I thought it was nothing to worry about.
Time pries away from us, both happy memories and sad ones, it is both a cursed reminder of a past we can no longer relive, and the promise of a future unburdened by guilt and regret that creeps up on our bones and makes a home that our willpower can't tear down.
There wasn't a single moment where the clock ticked and I knew you were gone, because a part of you had left on the morning when you forgot the day of the week and wanted to sleep in the afternoon; disaster was a work in progress a silent, unseen enemy stealthily making its way to our door, until the day it crashed through the front porch with the brutal force of a hurricane.
Guys guys I've not left this community, I'll never. I'm recently busy with some of my personal stuffs so was inactive and won't be able to remain active for few more days. Thank you for your concern. You all means alot.
"I am not afraid to fall in love again. I am afraid that I will try to find you in the other person. "
Months back I shrugged my shoulders when I saw these lines in my Pinterest feed. To find you in any other person, I would have to first lose you and I never perceived the fact that "You can lose the closest bond too". Maybe I perceived it but never wanted to admit it to be true.
Imperfectly perfect bonds seem too strong to be broken, to be departed ever. The four letters of fate don't see the four letters of bond. It does what it has to do.
The boy who sat in front of me that day has black eyes. My lips twitched thinking about the brown ones I have once drowned into. Maybe I am still drowning into them.
D R O W N I N G I N D R O W N E D
The black-eyed boy whispered to me that I look beautiful. I gave a polite smile to him and slid the compliment in the box named 'compliments on which the lips curve up', separated from the box named 'compliment on which the heart curves up and butterflies do a couple-dance'. The sole owner of this box is the one who stretched the letters of bond and thrust letters of broken into it.
B R O K E N B O N D
A few days later that boy who carried a beautiful aura around him brought me a locket. Black eyes gleaming at me with a different glint as if asking me to wear it. The guitar locket already hanging in my neck shifted uncomfortably behind my sweater as if wanting to tell him that the neck and heart have been already occupied by the presence of a certain someone whose place anything or anyone can never take.
L O C K E T A N D L O C K E D H E A R T
I laughed out loud at his jokes and loved the beautiful aura of his. With the dusk approaching, I bid goodbye to him. Sat in the balcony with a page and a pencil in my hand. The moon looked at me with curious eyes and the star which was going to fall in a few seconds held its breath. I scribbled 'Another day without you, another day of feeling the voids grow between the spaces of my fingers where once yours fit completely and the heart where once your presence breathed". The moon sighed and the star fell finally. They made peace with the truth that the talks with the moon, the wishes whispered to the falling stars and the scribbles on white pages would always speak about that one boy whose name spelt l o v e to me.
When I am awake the city is in ruins your words echo a quiet desperation as you plead with me to save myself because one of us must carry forward the wings of change and your heart is tired.
A switch turns itself on in my head and my feet trudge past the banks of a river that has forgotten to weep, the waters simply smile the smile of the weary.
The very next moment I am soaring past the clouds; the skies break into a rain gentle yet vicious in equal measure my hands seek out the dragon hide for comfort and my dragon shrieks with a delight that still mystifies me.
I do not stop to question what is happening, this absurdity that has crept into my life is more familiar than any dream more seductive than any nightmare.
I travel past snow peaked mountains while the songs of the unborn play an unceasing melody while my dragon wages a war against the destruction unfolding below us and her wings beat against the approaching shadow and the myriad terrors that is the dominion of the darkest nights.
I knew who you were when you didn't open your mouth.
And I liked it that way because then, you were all endless possibilities all the right answers to questions I didn't know I wanted to ask, you were all rough around the edges colour splashed carelessly on walls coated in graffiti You were mystery of the kind that Sherlock would sell his soul to uncover you were truth hidden behind an avalanche of lies you were evil under a sun you were white heat and shadows crashing from the skies you were a mess holding on to sand from the shore you were the chink of light flooding into a darkened room before the slam of a door.
It is the finest of balances that we must strike, between brutal honesty and a subtle dose of truth. The word that falls with grace from gentle lips is more valuable than one which is thrown from the crown of bitterness.
From the ashes, we find our way back. Our love is a perilous reminder of the hostility that simmers in the distance but never quite catches fire. Our hopes hang together by the loosest of threads, more fragile than a house of cards.
We think that the mockingbird sings for us. But her voice is her own and she knows a freedom that we can merely dream of. The light runs in straight lines until it melts into the twilight sky. We lose our way in this canopy of green, and maybe we lose a part of our soul as well.
On the other side of the bridge lies the city that we once called our home. A city where we left behind a childhood, and locked the doors. We threw the key into the river, and now we can't turn back because we never learned how to swim.
History is the ship on which our regrets float away, while our dreams are destined for lands that our eyes are too blind to see.
The past is the vessel which gives shape to our lives you do not truly know a person you never can you know little parts of them some throwaway pieces but never the full picture, and that's okay.
You see a face today, a pair of legs walking in the street but you don't what what their soul was like yesterday and you don't know whether it is tears or laughter despair or peace that is waiting for them tomorrow.
Our horizon is not without limits and one day this silver gun that holds our imagination will run out of bullets we are not fated to learn from history but merely condemned to repeat it.